


Isolation

by Kaijuscientists



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Quarantine fic!, inspired by the 30th anniv video, lockdown - Freeform, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24011224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaijuscientists/pseuds/Kaijuscientists
Summary: noun,the state of being in a place or situation that is separate from others.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Isolation

**Author's Note:**

> yet another lockdown fic inspired by the video that destroyed everyone. I couldn't let them spend another second alone!

“Good night, Angel.” 

Crowley hangs up the phone, and while he is disappointed with Aziraphale’s rejection, he’s not at all surprised. He’s used to it by now, he knows all too well that his angel is a stickler for rules, one of the less savory side effects of heaven, in Crowley’s opinion. 

But now, they were on their own side, a realization that still fills Crowley with so much happiness, it’s hard to contain sometimes. He has an honestly to someones chance at being _with_ Aziraphale. He was not about to mess that up by pressing Aziraphale to do something he might not want to do, not right now. He could be patient, he could try. 

But he had let a little spark of hope burn in his chest, that this time might be different, so the rejection had stung a little more than usual, if he was being honest. 

So he starts to get ready for bed, ready to lie down and not think about anything for a few months, maybe longer if he woke up and this whole nonsense was still happening. It wasn’t like he had anything better to be doing. 

“Listen up, you little shits.” Crowley barks as he wanders into his plant room, stepping through the fauna, eyeing each plant looking for imperfections. “I am going to lie down, when I wake up, I expect you all to be in tip top shape.” 

He pauses in front of a particular bratty ficus. 

“If there is one!” he yells, pausing for effect. “Wilted leaf, there will be heaven to pay, so you had all better behave if you know what’s good for you.” 

Pleased that his plants will not step one vine out of line during his nap he makes his way to his bedroom, and tries to decide what he feels like sleeping in. He quickly strikes anything with pants or long sleeves. They’ll be heading into summer soon, and the last thing he needs is to wake up overheated. 

Opting for a soft tank top and his briefs,slithering beneath the soft blanket on his bed, sinking into the soft mattress with a contented sigh. He wiggles in place, effectively making himself a little indented nest of sheets and blankets. 

Crowley expects that he’ll drop off immediately, he’s no stranger to sleep, having long since trained his corporation what to do when he’s horizontal. Instead he can’t stop thinking about Aziraphale.

Something about the whole conversation was sitting wrong with him, leaving it like they did between them. It makes him feel almost hollow inside, and he has to admit he hates the feeling. He truly does not want to nap for months, leaving Aziraphale all by himself. But what is he supposed to do?

Aziraphale said he shouldn’t come over. 

Even though he had pretty much said that he’d expected Crowley to be out and about, using his wiles to cause mischief.

But when Crowley had offered to come to the shop, suddenly, going out was suddenly breaking the rules, and he couldn’t possibly do that. 

Aziraphale might not want to break the rules himself, but, and Crowley knew this from experience, if someone else was willing to do the rule breaking, he could be persuaded. Maybe he should have tried harder to convince him, instead of hanging up right away. 

He sighed, why was he staying inside anyway, he was a demon, he couldn’t even catch the virus, let alone pass it along to anyone else. And for that matter, neither could Aziraphale. 

Though he could hear his angel now. 

_”Dear, you have to set a good example for the humans. If they see you out, then they’ll assume it’s ok for them to be out too.”_

An idea popped into his head then. If he didn’t leave the house, then technically he wasn’t breaking any rules. He could just miracle himself directly into Aziraphale’s back room, and no one would be the wiser. 

Crowley made up his mind, jumping out of bed, the sheets righting themselves right away. 

A quick miracle sets his clothes back in order. He stops in the kitchen, grabs his best bottle of wine before finally popping himself over to Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

“Crowley?!” Aziraphale exclaims, unable to stop the blinding smile when he sees his demon, for the first time in a few months. “What are you doing here?”

“Angel,” Crowleys says, holding the bottle he brought along out to him. ”I brought you wine.”

“Oh thank you dear,” Aziraphale takes the bottle, holding it in both hands. “I thought we weren’t going out?”

“Yes, well, as you pointed out, I am a demon.” Crowley says. “Supossed to break the rules.” 

“Well, I’m… very glad.” Aziraphale says, setting the wine down, before pulling Crowley into a hug, much to his surprise.

“I’ve missed you.” Aziraphale mutters into Crowley's shoulder. 

“It’s only been a couple months angel,” Crowley mumbles, feeling a little overwhelmed at the sudden touch, remembering that he should probably be hugging back. “We’ve gone longer before.”

“I know,” He says quietly. “I had wanted you to come over.” 

“I offered to, angel,” Crowley says, pressing his check to the side of Aziraphale’s head. 

“I wanted to accept.” Aziraphale says, letting go and stepping back, wringing his hands together. ”Truthfully, I don’t know why I said what I did, old habits, I suppose.”

Crowley doesn’t know what to say. 

“I regretted it the moment I said it, then you hung up so quickly.” Aziraphale continues to explain. “I’m always asking you to wait for me.”

“Hey, hey.” Crowley says, taking his angel’s hand in his own. “You know i’m happy to go at your pace.”

Aziraphale nods, but Crowley can tell he’s still bothered. 

“I wanted to call back,” he says, looking down and avoiding Crowley’s eyes. “but you had sounded so sad when you hung up, I was positive you wouldn’t answer, that you were mad at me because even now I can’t seem to be brave.”

“I wasn’t mad at all, angel, promise.” Crowley says, making his voice as gentle as he can. “A little disappointed yes, but not mad. I’m sorry I hung up like I did”

Aziraphale finally looks at him, his eyes just a little too shiny for Crowley’s liking, he hates it when his angel cries. 

“I missed you too,” Crowley says, because he did miss him. “How about we open this wine, and while we let it breath you can show me all the cakes you’ve made?”

“Sounds like a splendid plan, my dear.”


End file.
